


Her Rock

by anotherbird



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, F/F, Ficlet, Forehead Kisses, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Pining, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22467643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherbird/pseuds/anotherbird
Summary: And Sadie just watches her work, never even thinks about stopping her, because that woman is a rock.Has been her rock for the last couple of weeks. Her thing to hold on to, when she's got her head under water. When she's drowning.
Relationships: Sadie Adler/Abigail Roberts Marston
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	Her Rock

**Author's Note:**

> I love them and there's nothing I can do about it and there aren't enough fics out there. 
> 
> Big thanks to [Scrambled Still](https://twitter.com/ScrambledStill) for being an awesome beta!

Sadie’s exhausted. Now that the high of the fight, the murderous frenzy, the need for vengeance have left her, her hands are shaking almost violently. She spreads her fingers, then clenches them into fists, presses her nails into the skin of her palms. Around her Shady Belle returns to her usual bustle. There's Hosea bellowing out commands somewhere, people carrying away corpses or searching through bloodstained clothes for coin, valuables and other useful objects. 

But Sadie is tired, her head feels empty, drained. Like someone sucked everything out of her. All the hatred, her energy and sorrow, at least for a few moments. There's no relief. Just exhaustion and emptiness.

She lights a cigarette for herself, her last one, a crinkly and self-made thing, and leans back against the wall of the run-down mansion.

Her hands, her clothes, everything feels sticky and filthy. The blood is drying on her skin and clothes, leaving a crusty, itchy layer behind like a second skin.

It doesn't matter to her. A fly lands on her blood stained boot and she watches as it crawls around on the leather and sucks on the rusty damp stains. 

She's startled, when a shadow approaches her. She hasn't heard any footsteps, no rustling of skirts, has been too lost in thoughts or rather the cotton-like emptiness in her head. Abigail settles down in front of her on the muddy floor without waiting for an invitation. She has brought a bucket of water with her. She remains quiet, just offers a smile to Sadie. It's hard to read. There’s no pity. just warmth, no expectations, but it’s hers. Reserved for her. Steady. It says  _ I’m here _ , but there’s more to it.

_ I will be here. _

And

_ I’m here for you. _

But maybe Sadie just reads too much into it. 

Abigail pulls a rag from the bucket, wrings it out and takes one of Sadie's hands. She gently starts to rub the grime off, cleans every digit, takes her time. It's a little ticklish betweens her fingers, where the skin is thin and sensitive, keeps on working until the skin of her hand is pink and clean and new and continues her chore with her other hand. Gently, carefully, but without the slightest hint of hesitation. Her brow is furrowed, she's concentrating on her task and her fingers are warm and skilled.

And Sadie just watches her work, never even thinks about stopping her, because that woman is a rock. 

Has been her rock for the last couple of weeks. Her thing to hold on to, when she's got her head under water. When she's drowning. 

Her  _ rock _ .

_ Her _ rock. 

Finally Abigail looks up, plucks the cigarette from Sadie's lips with a little playful wink and puts it between her own, not really smoking it. She just holds it there as it keeps burning down, almost carefully as she starts to clean Sadie's face. Rubs the cloth over her brows and forehead, over her nose, cheeks and neck, her lips. Sadie just sits there, eyes falling shut and listens to her own heartbeat and Abigail's breathing. Only opens them again, when she no longer feels Abigail’s hands on her face.

Abigail hands her the cigarette back. It's merely a stub now, but Sadie still takes it. Wonders if she can taste her on it, if she just imagines it. If she even should imagine it.

There’s that smile again and then Abigail bends forward and lips brush against her forehead, warm and a little damp and Sadie smells grey soap and sweat and Abigail. Just for a few moments.

"There you go, Darlin'."

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!  
> If you want to talk, find me on Tumblr [the-other-bird](http://the-other-bird.tumblr.com) or Twitter [@ItsAnotherBird](https://twitter.com/ItsAnotherBird)


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